Chapter Text

PART I

The Church of Null

Chapter Text

For most, the concept of death was a dark thing.

It was a final chapter few wished to face—whispered about in uneasy tones, acknowledged but rarely embraced. Whether slow and gentle or abrupt and violent, the end awaited all living things: animals, plants, and people alike. No exceptions. No escape.

But for N, death was something else entirely.

To him, it wasn’t a thing to dread or despise. If it was inevitable, why fight it? Why let it sour the sweetness of life? Instead of fear, he found celebration. Instead of grief, joy. Every passing was a chance to honor a life well-lived, a moment to remember and cherish rather than mourn.

This belief was more than a personal conviction—it was N’s truth, the very foundation of his being. It shaped the sermons he delivered and the comfort he offered, helping those adrift in grief find their way to peace. His faith wasn’t just in death but in the beauty of life itself, a balance that made the end feel less like a loss and more like a transition.

This was the doctrine instilled in N from the very beginning. Found as an infant, abandoned and barely clinging to life, he had been saved by a pastor of the Solver’s faith. The man had carried him out of the brink of oblivion, raising him with kindness and the teachings of their order. N owed his survival—and his purpose—to the doctrines he had come to embrace. Without them, he wouldn’t just have been lost. He wouldn’t exist at all.

He closed his book with a quiet exhale, glancing up at the congregation gathered before him. Rows of bowed heads, clasped hands, and murmured prayers filled the air, a familiar rhythm that hummed in his chest like a second heartbeat. Together, they recited the words etched deep into the faith’s fabric:

“Pray for the gift of life, celebrate the gift of death, and take solace within the machinations of the Solver. Be grateful for the universe and the very fabric it is woven on, and yearn for the inevitable, exponential end. Purge your thoughts, clear your mind, and let us in.”

“Amen,” N intoned.

“Amen,” came the murmured echo.

His smile was warm as he gestured to a family sitting near the back. A woman’s quiet sobs were muffled by the gentle comfort of a young man beside her. “To conclude today’s sermon, I’d like to welcome the Vickers family. They’ve recently lost a loved one and have joined us in their time of need. Please, extend your kindness to them and prepare for the ceremonial celebration. Together, let us send their loved one off with nothing but positivity and warmth.”

The murmurs of comfort and soft glances from the crowd told N that the family would not leave alone in their grief, and his smile grew. This was the faith he lived to share—the solace of togetherness in life’s inevitable end. 

It was a beautiful thing. 

N stood by the window, observing the crowds that gathered outside on the open field, their laughter and chatter a gentle hum that pierced the quiet of his office. Tents lined the grounds, their colorful fabrics fluttering in the wind, while food stalls sent up enticing aromas of sizzling meats and spiced treats. Music, light and celebratory, floated in the air, mingling with the occasional sound of children’s shrieks as they played games. In the center of it all, the Vickers family stood, their faces glowing not with grief, but with something far more unassuming: joy.

The funeral was over, but the true ceremony had only just begun. Celebrations like this were not so much about honoring the dead as they were about burying sorrow beneath layers of noise, food, and drink. The mourning, in its proper time, would fade, forgotten under the weight of laughter. The family would go to bed exhausted, but blissfully unaware that their grief had slipped away, leaving them in an almost peaceful state of euphoria. Tomorrow, they would wake, and the emptiness of loss would still be there, but for tonight, the memory of their loved one was cloaked in warmth. Their relative, high above them, could rest easy knowing that their passing had not been marred by bitterness, but woven into the fabric of a celebration that promised no sadness.

N’s gaze lingered on the scene outside, the sound of the festivities mingling with the faint chime of the pendant resting against his chest. He absently toyed with it, his fingers tracing the edges of the hexagonal charm. A yellow hexagon in the center, flanked by three arrows pointing outward, the symbol of the Solver. He had worn it for years, the cool metal a reminder of the faith that had shaped him. He thought, as he often did, about the Solver—this faceless entity that governed the principles of his world. What was it, truly? A being with no form, no voice. A deity whose teachings had spread like ripples in water, leaving nothing but its mark, its seal, behind.

He had scoured every archive, every tome. He’d asked his brothers and sisters, seeking any scrap of information, but there was nothing. The Solver was a mystery wrapped in silence. Even the most dedicated followers had no answers, only belief. N pressed the pendant into his fingers once more, the feeling of it soothing his mind.

Before he could retreat further into his thoughts, a knock at the door interrupted the quiet.

“Come in,” N called out. The door clicked open, and a shadowed figure stepped inside—one of his Deacons. Her face was obscured, as always, by the dimness of the hallway outside.

“Brother N, I’ve just checked the mail,” she said, her voice soft and even. “There’s a letter for you.”

N raised an eyebrow as she handed him the envelope, a bright yellow so vibrant it almost seemed to hum in the dim light. He had received plenty of letters in his time—appreciation, requests, even love letters—but this one was different. The wax seal, deep red and perfectly pressed, caught his attention before anything else. He turned the envelope over, his breath catching in his chest.

The Solver’s symbol.

Not just any symbol, but the official seal of the Church of Null. The oldest, most revered institution in the faith. N’s heart quickened, and his mind scrambled for understanding. How many people had the authority to send a letter with that seal? Few enough to count on one hand. And yet, here it was, addressed to him.

He wasted no time, tearing the envelope open with quick, almost frantic movements. The Deacon had already slipped away, leaving him alone with the contents of the letter. N inhaled deeply, steadying himself as he unfolded the paper. His eyes skimmed the elegant, formal script. He sat, unable to rise from the chair, as the letter unfolded its contents:

Dear Pastor N of the Retriever Church,

We hope this letter finds you in good health. We at the Church of Null have heard of your growing reputation and the tireless work you’ve done to help those in need. Your dedication to spreading the Solver’s teachings has reached even our ears, and we are impressed by the devotion and skill with which you carry out your mission.

As such, it is with great honor that we formally invite you to join our congregation at the Church of Null. Your faith, empathy, and wisdom would be invaluable here, and we would be pleased to welcome you into our fold. We await your response eagerly and hope for good news.

Kind regards,

Cardinal Cyn.

N’s breath hitched, and for a moment, the room seemed to spin. Cardinal Cyn— the Cardinal herself. The leader of the Church of Null. A name that echoed in reverent whispers throughout the faith. To be invited to join her congregation was no mere honor. It was the pinnacle of success, the highest recognition a servant of the Solver could hope for. The Church of Null was the birthplace of the faith, where the first disciples had once knelt and prayed. The idea of working there, walking those hallowed halls—of standing in the very space where the Solver’s truth had first been breathed into the world—was nothing short of a dream.

They wanted him.

N’s fingers trembled as they clutched the letter, warmth rushing to his cheeks. His heartbeat thundered in his chest. His life, the very path he’d walked, had led him to this moment, and somehow, it felt both too big and just right. He sank deeper into the chair, staring at the letter as if it could offer him more than words. 

A sudden shout of joy drifted from the field outside, pulling N’s attention back to the window. He watched as several of the Deacons joined the revelry, their robes billowing like forgotten formalities as they darted between the churchgoers. One was chasing a group of children around a game stall, their laughter spilling out into the crisp evening air. Another had taken a seat at a food stand, chatting animatedly with an older woman who gestured wildly with a half-eaten skewer of roasted vegetables. It was the kind of scene that would normally fill N with quiet satisfaction, perhaps even pride, but today, it did something else entirely.

It made him realize what he’d be leaving behind.

The Church. His duties. The brothers and sisters who had become as much a part of his life as the Solver itself. The families who had leaned on him during their darkest moments. The faces that now blurred together in his mind but were, at some point, bright and full of hope because of him.

And now, here was this letter—a single page and a wax seal, upending it all. The honor of the Church of Null beckoned, but the price of leaving this place, these people, was one he wasn’t sure he could pay. The dual pull of duty and desire churned within him, and for a moment, it was as though his mind was fraying at the edges, unable to find the thread that might unravel this knot.

He didn’t notice the shadow in the doorway until it spoke.

“Brother.” The familiar voice startled him, and he turned to see the Deacon from earlier leaning casually against the frame. “You should accept the invitation. It would be foolish not to.”

N blinked, her bluntness catching him off guard. “How did you know the letters contents?”

“The seal,” she replied, shrugging. “That’s the seal of the Church of Null. Why else would they send you a letter, if not to invite you to join their congregation?”

He glanced down at the envelope again, his thumb brushing over the embossed symbol as though it might speak to him if pressed hard enough. The letter itself carried a faint, floral scent—lilies, he thought, their sweetness almost overpowering, as though someone had dipped the parchment in perfume. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the fragrance as if it might bring clarity, but all it brought was a brief moment of satisfaction.

“I’m not so sure I can,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “What about my duties here? What about all of you? I can’t just abandon the people who need me.”

The Deacon chuckled softly, the sound like the rustling of pages in an old book. “Brother N, you’ve already given so much to this Church. More than anyone could have asked of you. We won’t crumble without you. This invitation is a chance to serve the Solver in ways most of us could never dream of. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and we all know you should take it.”

He frowned, her words registering after a few seconds. “We?”

“Yes, we. The other Deacons, the High Priest—we’ve all discussed it. We’d be sad to see you go, of course, but we’d also be thrilled. You’ve earned this, Brother. You’ve climbed higher than most of us ever could, and we’d celebrate your success just as we celebrate life and death. Isn’t that what we preach? To focus not on what’s lost, but on what’s been given, and what’s yet to come?”

Her words made sense because in a way, she was right. N turned back to the letter, rereading the lines he’d already memorized, his thumb still tracing the edge of the paper.

The room seemed smaller now, the air thicker, as though the letter itself had expanded to fill every corner as it was all he could see. Outside, the celebration continued, the sounds of laughter and music filtering through the glass as a reminder of the life he’d built here. A life he might soon leave behind.

He exhaled slowly, the decision still far from made but beginning to take shape in his mind. For the first time since he’d opened the envelope, he allowed himself to imagine it—to picture himself standing in the halls of the Church of Null, walking the same paths as the first disciples, serving the Solver in ways he had only ever dreamed of.

It felt monumental. It felt terrifying. And yet, it also felt right .

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said quietly, his gaze still fixed on the letter. “Perhaps I will accept the invitation.”

The Deacon smiled faintly, a glint of approval in her eyes. “It’s not about what’s right, Brother. It’s about what’s meant to be.”

With that, she slipped out of the doorway, leaving him alone once more with the letter and the scent of lilies. N sighed, tucking the paper beneath his robe. He opened a draw, brought out his own piece of paper and wrote a quick response letter. He put it in an envelope, sealed it with his own wax seal and stamp, and left his office to make way to his room.

He needed to start packing.

Chapter Text

N hummed the Solver’s prayers under his breath, the words slipping out in a rhythm that made it feel like he was humming a song. It wasn’t intentional—just a habit, really—but one that seemed to draw curious glances from the steady stream of travelers passing through the airport terminal. He didn’t mind; in fact, he barely noticed. His attention was fixed on the here and now, on the fact that he was standing on new soil, breathing in air that felt different—crisper somehow, or perhaps just unfamiliar.

He had exchanged his ceremonial robes for something more practical—though “practical” in N’s wardrobe still skewed toward sharp creases and deliberate choices. A light dress shirt, pressed slacks, and polished shoes marked him as a man who valued order, but it was the sleek pilot’s cap atop his head that turned the most heads. It was a relic from his adoptive father, a gift handed down with the sort of reverence reserved for family heirlooms. The hat carried history, and if the amused glances from strangers were any indication, it also carried a certain charm.

But N wasn’t wearing it for charm. He wore it because it reminded him of where he came from. And now, here he was, half a world away, staring at a parking lot filled with unfamiliar license plates, waiting for his escort to arrive.

Australia. The birthplace of the Solver and its religion. N had never stepped outside the borders of America before, and the idea of being in a new country was thrilling in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The Solver, as always, had guided him here—rewarded his faith with this opportunity—and he felt a surge of gratitude. He whispered a quiet thanks to the Solver, and perhaps indirectly, to Cardinal Cyn, whose invitation had set all of this in motion.

Her letter had arrived with a sense of urgency, the kind that made the envelope feel heavier than it was. N had responded just as eagerly, and preparations had been finalized in less than a week. During the wait for his flight, more letters had followed, each one penned in Cardinal Cyn’s elegant writing. She wrote of the Church of Null’s grandeur, of its sacred ceremonies, its triumphs, and its undeniable miracles. N had read every word with the wide-eyed attention of a student uncovering a lost scripture. Their correspondence had taken on an almost casual rhythm, though N never allowed himself to forget who she was. To him, Cardinal Cyn wasn’t just a penpal—she was the living embodiment of the Solver’s will, and he treated her with the reverence that role demanded.

The sharp gleam of black chrome caught his eye, drawing his attention to a limousine gliding to a stop in front of him. Its polished hood bore the Solver’s symbol as an ornament, gleaming like a beacon in the midday sun. The driver stepped out, a man in a crisp uniform who moved with the efficiency of someone used to being on display.

When the driver spotted N, he paused, blinked, and then performed a small bow, clutching his cap in one hand. There was a brief flicker of uncertainty on the man’s face as he took in N’s features, but that was quickly wiped away.

“Pastor N?” he asked.

N tipped his pilot’s cap in return, offering a polite smile. “Yes, that would be me.”

The driver straightened, his movements now tinged with formality. “Well then. Pastor N, welcome to Australia. The Cardinal sends her regards.”

With practiced precision, he opened the limousine’s rear door, gesturing for N to step inside. N paused, glancing at the luxurious interior—plush seats, tinted windows, and what appeared to be a small bar nestled into the side panel. It was the kind of car one didn’t just ride in, but sank into, a space that practically demanded you lean back and contemplate your life choices.

N, however, wasn’t in the mood for solitude.

“Would you mind if I rode up front with you?” he asked, hefting his briefcase. “I prefer company over leather seats.”

The driver hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Of course, Pastor.”

After taking his luggage and storing it in the back, he opened the passenger door, and N slid inside with a practiced ease, settling his briefcase onto his lap. The driver returned to his seat, adjusted his mirrors, and within moments, the car eased onto the road, leaving the airport and its bustling crowds behind.

The landscape unfolded before them in sprawling patches of green and gold, the sun casting long shadows over distant hills. N found himself glued to the window, his gaze flicking between the unfamiliar flora and the occasional kangaroo sign posted along the road.

“So,” he said after a stretch of silence, “do you often chauffeur around foreign clergy, or is this a special occasion?”

The driver shook his head, fixed on the road. “You’re the first Pastor I’ve driven for, if that’s what you’re asking. Most people I chauffeur to the Church are... well, they aren’t you. Mainly business partners or figures the Church wants to make connections with, though they are mainly dealt with by the Vicar General. You must be very important to be personally requested by the Cardinal herself.”

N smirked, leaning back slightly. “Flattery, intentional or not, is always appreciated.”

The driver chuckled, a low, knowing sound. “You’re also the first I’ve heard of staying at the Church. They haven’t welcomed new members in years. Decades, even. They’re… particular about who gets in.”

N nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a contemplative line. “That makes sense. Only the most steadfast in their devotion could be worthy of serving at the Church of Null.” He tilted his head, his tone turning conversational. “What about you? Are you one of the faithful?”

The driver shook his head, a small smirk creeping onto his face as though N had told a joke. “Me? No, sir. I’m just the guy behind the wheel. I don’t work inside the Church itself, though I do attend the sermons now and then. Hard not to, when they’re as rare as they are.”

N raised a curious brow. “And how would you describe them? The Cardinal mentioned her sermons in her letters, but secondhand accounts only go so far. I’d like to hear it from someone who’s been there—seen them.”

The driver’s grip on the wheel slackened, his gaze briefly distant, as though sifting through memories. “They’re… mystical,” he said finally, his voice quieter, tinged with awe. His hands tightened again, pulling the car back into the here and now.

N chuckled lightly. “That’s the word she used, too.”

The driver adjusted his grip on the wheel again, and it was then that N noticed the bandage on the back of the man’s hand. It was hastily wrapped, the gauze tinged with streaks of blood that hadn’t yet dried.

“What happened there?” N asked, leaning forward to gesture at the wound.

The driver glanced at his hand, then scoffed. “Drunk in the city,” he said casually. “Got a little too close for comfort. Just a scrape.”

N squinted slightly, humming in thought. “Doesn’t look like ‘just a scrape.’” With a calm precision, he reached down, unclasping his suitcase.

The driver’s brow furrowed, watching as N opened the case to reveal its unexpected contents. No neatly folded clothes or stacks of papers, but rows of small, meticulously labeled vials filled with a deep crimson liquid.

N selected one, holding it up to the light streaming through the windshield. The liquid shimmered faintly as if it held something more than its color. He examined it briefly, then extended it toward the driver. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

The driver blinked, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. “What?”

“Drink it,” N repeated, his voice steady, his tone leaving little room for argument.

For a moment, the driver’s eyes flicked between the vial and N’s face, as if searching for the punchline to some elaborate joke. Then, with a muttered curse, he pulled the car to the side of the road, killing the engine. “Wait a second…” His voice lowered, trembling slightly. “I had a feeling when I caught sight of your hair and eyes, but you… you’re not… you wouldn’t happen to be…” He pointed a finger at N. “Are you… blessed?”

N’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “That’s one way to put it.” He extended the vial again, this time with a slight flourish.

The driver took it carefully, his hands suddenly reverent. He unscrewed the cap and tilted the vial back, the liquid sliding down his throat in a single swallow. His face twisted briefly at the metallic tang, but he didn’t stop until it was empty.

As he handed the empty vial back, the driver jolted, his hand twitching involuntarily. His eyes widened, and with shaking fingers, he unwrapped the bandage from his hand. Beneath it, the wound was gone—no scar, no redness, nothing to suggest it had ever been there at all.

The driver’s head snapped up, his face a mix of shock and wonder. “It’s… gone,” he breathed.

N closed the vial back into its slot, shutting the suitcase with a soft click. He met the driver’s stunned gaze with a calm, knowing smile. “Told you it’d help.”

The driver stared for a moment longer before turning back to the wheel, muttering something about miracles under his breath.

N settled back into his seat, his gaze drifting to the window. The world blurred past, but his mind lingered on the driver’s reaction.

The Solver’s blessing wasn’t a secret, though it was rare enough to make even the faithful stare. Silver hair and golden eyes marked the blessed, setting them apart before they’d taken their first steps. But the true gift wasn’t in appearance—it was in the blood. Those touched by the Solver carried healing in their veins, an ability to mend wounds faster than nature intended. By sharing their blood, they could extend that gift to others.

It was why N had been held in such high regard back home, why his visits to hospitals had become more ritual than duty. He’d seen lives change with a single donation, watched despair lift from faces that had grown too used to it.

And maybe that was why the Church of Null had called him. Not just his faith, his dedication, or even his sermons—but the Solver’s gift itself.

N’s fingers brushed the suitcase as his thoughts wandered. Once, long ago, the Solver’s blessing had been said to grant more than healing. Ancient texts spoke of abilities long lost to time—of minds that could move anything with a thought, of the ability to blink between space itself. Legends, perhaps, or truths forgotten in the march of centuries.

He leaned his head against the window, watching the eucalyptus trees sway in the wind. Whatever the Solver’s will was for him, he would walk its path. Healing, faith, sermons, or something more—he would answer the call.

For now, the road stretched ahead, and the Church of Null waited at the end of it.

“Thank you for the ride,” N said, hefting his luggage from the car.

“No, thank you,” the driver replied, his voice carrying something between gratitude and disbelief. “For healing my wound.”

N offered a polite smile, the kind that said I do this all the time, but you’re welcome to be amazed. “Anytime.”

The limousine pulled away with a soft purr, leaving N standing alone at the front gate of the Church estate. He exhaled, glancing up at the towering iron bars that seemed to stretch endlessly upward, their tips capped with intricate spirals that could’ve been ornate flourishes or subtle deterrents, depending on the mood of the observer. Beyond the gate, the estate sprawled before him like something out of a historical novel—grand, expansive, and ostentatiously intricate.

Though, calling it a “Church” felt disingenuous. This was no humble house of worship. It was, quite frankly, the largest mansion N had ever laid eyes on. And it wasn’t even certain this was the main building. The estate stretched out in every direction, a maze of towering structures and smaller annexes, all adorned with carvings so detailed that N half expected them to blink or shift under his gaze. The grounds themselves seemed almost impossibly vast, their sheer scale making even the most imposing buildings feel diminutive. It was really putting into perspective how large the amount of land the Cardinal owned was.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a key, small and unassuming save for the delicate etchings that marked it as something significant. The Cardinal had sent it in the mail, accompanied by a note: “This will grant you access to the estate. Be sure to lock the gate behind you.”

N swallowed, fitting the key into the lock. The gate creaked open with reluctance, and he stepped through, dragging his suitcase behind him. He glanced back, clicking the lock shut as instructed, the sound reverberating in the quiet air like a finality.

The stone path ahead was paved in neatly arranged slabs, their edges softened by moss creeping in from the edges of the meticulously manicured lawns. N began his walk, the crunch of his shoes against stone the only sound for a time. It wasn’t long before the scale of the estate became apparent—not just something he saw, but something he felt in the stretch of the minutes. The path meandered, as if designed to make visitors truly earn their destination. Ten minutes passed, his suitcase wheels rolling obediently behind him, and still the main buildings loomed in the distance.

Eventually, the estate began to offer up more details. The carvings on the buildings weren’t just decorative; they seemed to tell stories, though N couldn’t begin to decipher their meaning. Figures intertwined with symbols, scenes both grand and unsettling etched into the very stone. Depictions of a large mass of tentacles and claws and eyes. For all its beauty, the estate carried a faint air of something else, something that whispered of age and secrets too deep to surface.

It was then that he noticed movement—people.

Figures moved about the grounds, their robes catching the breeze as they worked. At first, N thought little of it—Deacons, he assumed, tending to their tasks. But as he walked closer, a curious pattern emerged.

They were all women.

At first, it was a passing observation, the kind one might not even register fully. But as he walked deeper into the estate, the realization began to take shape, solidifying with each new face. Every Deacon he passed was a woman, and not just that—they were all staring at him.

Not in the casual, polite way of someone acknowledging a stranger, but with an intensity that bordered on awe. Their eyes lingered, wide and unblinking, as if he were some rare, elusive animal wandering into view for the first time.

N adjusted his grip on his suitcase, feeling the weight of their gazes like a physical thing. He tried to ignore it at first, offering a polite nod here and there, but it became impossible to pretend he wasn’t being noticed.

He glanced at one woman as she passed—a younger Deacon with her hood pushed back, revealing sharp features and wide, curious eyes. She had a set of purple hair and eyes, and wore a beanie on her head. She froze mid-step, her gaze locked onto him as though she couldn’t quite believe he was real. N gave her a small smile, and she promptly ducked her head, her face flushing as she scurried away.

“Weird…,” breathed N as he watched her leave.

By the time he reached what appeared to be the main building, the pattern was undeniable. Every face he’d seen, every set of eyes that had followed him, belonged to a woman. He stopped in front of the grand entrance, its double doors towering above him, and let out a long breath.

“Well,” he muttered to himself. “This should be… interesting.”

He glanced back at the estate, the sprawling grounds now dotted with figures who had stopped their work entirely to watch him. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to something bordering on reverence, and others he saw...a different emotion. He hadn’t interacted with anyone in a romantic way before, but even he could tell desire when he saw it. N tightened his grip on his suitcase and turned back to the doors.

He raised a hand, hesitating for the briefest moment before knocking. The sound echoed through the wood, and he stepped back, waiting. The faint rustling of robes behind him told him the audience was still there, observing his every move.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing another woman, younger than the others he’d seen. 

But this one was different.

She stepped into view, and N felt his breath catch in his chest, an involuntary reaction he immediately chastised himself for. She was striking—perhaps the most beautiful person he had ever encountered. Her face was soft, rounded, and pale, her skin so smooth it seemed almost translucent in the dim light. She wore a black dress with subtle yellow accents, its cut modest but flattering, and atop her head sat a coif with the Solver’s symbol displayed prominently at the center of the headband.

Her most arresting features, however, were her long, flowing silver hair that shimmered like moonlight, and her bright yellow eyes that seemed to glow faintly, catching and holding the light like polished citrine.

For a moment, N thought he might be looking at some reflection of himself—a mirror image rendered feminine and impossibly delicate.

Then his gaze flicked downward, catching sight of a folded letter tucked neatly into her pocket. The handwriting on the front was unmistakably his own.

“Pastor N,” she said, her voice smooth but almost monotone, the delivery not quite matching the small smile that played at her lips. She grabbed the hem of her dress and dipped into a practiced curtsy, the gesture graceful but slightly perfunctory. “Curtsy bow. Welcome to the Church of Null. We’ve been expecting you…”

Chapter Text

N’s gaze flicked between the letter half-concealed in her pocket and the woman herself. Her robes, meticulously tailored with a sleek, almost regal elegance, marked her as someone of significant standing within the Church. The way the activity around them seemed to come to a halt—every gaze drawn to her like iron filings to a magnet—was another clue. As was the overpowering smell of lilies that he remembered when he had first received the letter of invitation.

But it was her presence that sealed it, an air of authority so effortless it felt woven into her very being.

This beautiful, silver-haired woman could only be one person.

Cardinal Cyn.

Straightening his posture, N mirrored her curtsy with a respectful bow, his hand pressed firmly to his heart. “Cardinal Cyn,” he began. “It is an honor to finally make your acquaintance. I’m truly humbled to have been invited to your Church and to stand here in your presence.”

The Cardinal lifted a delicate hand to her chin, stifling a small laugh. “Giggle,” she said softly, the sound barely escaping her lips.

N froze for half a beat, the words catching him off guard. He recovered quickly, though the corner of his mouth twitched in subtle confusion. Was she narrating her own laughter? Perhaps it was some sort of ceremonial practice or personal quirk. Whatever the reason, he decided it was best not to ask.

“The pleasure is ours, Pastor,” Cyn continued, her voice warm but composed. “We are truly grateful that you accepted our invitation to join our congregation. Here at the Church of Null, we have heard much of your work and your devotion. Expectations are high, I must admit, but I have no doubt you will exceed them.”

There it was again—we. She kept using collective terms. N raised a brow, tempted to ask who exactly ‘we’ entailed, but he let it go. Instead, he offered a polite nod. “I’ll do my best not to disappoint.”

“You won’t,” she said with an air of certainty that left no room for doubt.

With that, Cyn stepped fully outside, the grand doors closing behind her with a soft, resonant thud. For a moment, she seemed to take in the courtyard, the grounds, and the still-gathering crowd of Deacons who hadn’t yet resumed their work.

“I trust your journey here wasn’t too strenuous?” she asked, folding her hands neatly in front of her as she turned her attention back to him.

“No, not at all,” N said quickly. “In fact, it’s been quite pleasant. This is my first time leaving my home country, so everything about this trip has felt… invigorating, really.”

Cyn’s smile widened slightly. “Joyous smile. That is wonderful to hear. I believe you’ll find your time here equally invigorating—if not more so.” She paused, studying him for a moment before continuing. “You may also be pleased to know that your Church back home is being well taken care of in your absence. Our trusted sponsors have already arranged for a significant donation to ensure their continued prosperity.”

N’s eyes widened. “Wait, you really don’t need to—”

“Shhh,” Cyn interrupted, raising a hand and pressing her finger against his lips. He shuddered at the contact, and the Cardinal’s smile seemed to deepen. “Hush, Pastor N. This is simply our way of expressing gratitude for your decision to join us. A gesture of goodwill, nothing more.”

Her tone left no room for argument, so N could only nod instinctively. Still, the idea of his former congregation receiving such a generous donation on his behalf filled him with relief, knowing that he wasn’t just completely leaving them behind and not giving back to the generosity he’d received all his life.

“I… appreciate the gesture,” he said finally with another bow.

“Good,” Cyn replied, her smile returning as she motioned for him to follow. “Come, Pastor. There’s much to see, and the Cardinal’s time waits for no one—not even the Solver’s chosen.”

The Cardinal began walking down the path, gesturing for him to follow. N fell into step beside her, suitcase rolling quietly behind. The path ahead stretched into the heart of the estate, its cobblestones framed by neatly trimmed hedges and statues that seemed to watch their every move.

“Your work back home has been nothing short of extraordinary,” Cyn said after a moment. “Your contributions to the faith, your ability to guide and heal—not just the body, but the soul—have not gone unnoticed.”

N glanced sideways at her. He didn’t know why, but he felt the faintest flicker of unease creeping into his chest. “I’m just doing my duty, Cardinal. Nothing more than what’s expected of me.”

“And yet, what you do is far from ordinary,” she replied, glancing at him. “The Solver’s blessing is rare, Pastor. You are rare. It is one of many reasons you are here, after all.”

N felt his pulse quicken slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. The Solver’s blessing had always been a part of him, something he’d carried with pride. But here, standing in the estate of the Church of Null, it felt like something more—like a badge of honour, or perhaps a symbol of status. The Cardinal was holding him in such high regard because of it, after all.

As they approached the central building, its towering spires casting long shadows across the courtyard, Cyn slowed her pace. “You’ll have time to settle in, of course,” she said, her tone growing lighter. “And we’ll discuss your new role in greater detail tomorrow. For now, I will take you to be introduced to the others. While we have many Deacons and followers on the Church grounds, you will only have to worry about interacting with a select few. The Church refers to this group as the ‘inner circle’. They will be who you mostly see and perform your duties with. After the introductions, you may unpack and rest.” She glanced at him, her golden eyes catching the light. “This is your home now, Pastor N. I hope you’ll come to see it as such.”

N nodded, though the word “home” would always belong to his Church of Origin. It felt too soon to call this place such a thing.

He hesitated, glancing back at the path they’d walked. The Deacons had resumed their work, though their glances still followed him like shadows clinging to light. Amid the crowd, his eyes caught on a familiar face—well, almost familiar. The purple-haired Deacon from earlier stood among the others, but this time, she wasn’t alone.

Beside her was another woman, eerily similar in appearance but distinct in her own ways. She was taller by a few inches, her posture more self-assured, and her hair was longer too. The resemblance was striking enough that N felt a quiet sense of déjà vu, like staring at a reflection distorted just slightly by rippling water.

Before he could linger too long, Cyn stepped back to join him, her gaze following his line of sight. “Gracious expression,” she said smoothly, her lips curling into a faint smile. “It seems you’ve already noticed the first pair of our inner circle.”

She lifted her hand high and waved, a gesture that immediately caught the attention of the pair. They approached, the shorter one—the Deacon he’d seen before—darting away from N’s gaze.

“This,” Cyn began, “is Sister Nori and her daughter, Uzi.”

N inclined his head politely, taking in the introductions.

“Nori,” Cyn continued, “is a Canon who occasionally performs ceremonial duties in the cathedral. Her daughter, Uzi, is one of our Deacons, responsible for maintaining our records.”

Cyn turned toward the two women, motioning to N. “Sister Nori, Uzi, this is Pastor N, from the Retriever Church. He’ll be joining our congregation from now on.”

Uzi remained quiet, her purple eyes fixed on N with an intensity that felt somewhere between curiosity and scrutiny. Her mother, however, stepped forward. Nori’s gaze swept over him, sharp and assessing, until it settled on his face—his silver hair, his golden eyes.

“You’re blessed,” she said. Her voice was so smooth and easy on the ears that it made him want to melt into putty.

He swallowed, resisting the sudden urge to fidget. There was something about the way she spoke that made him feel as though she’d peeled him apart with a glance. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he managed, his voice catching on the words.

Nori leaned in closer, a faint smile playing at her lips. “You’re also a man.”

N blinked, caught entirely off guard. “I… yes? I am indeed a man.”

“Interesting,” Nori murmured, stepping back with an almost mischievous grin. She turned, taking Uzi’s hand in her own. “It was lovely to meet you, Pastor N. My daughter and I look forward to working with you in the future.”

As they began to walk away, Uzi glanced back at him one last time. N, thinking she might just be shy, offered a small wave.

Uzi frowned, let out a faint scoff, and turned back without a word.

N flinched, caught off guard by her reaction. Cyn, however, stepped in with her usual composed demeanor. “Please don’t take that personally,” she said. “Uzi is naturally reserved with new people. She takes time to warm up to others.”

N waved off the comment, forcing a smile. “It’s fine, Cardinal. I’ve dealt with teenagers like her before at my Church. A little patience, and I’m sure we’ll get along eventually.”

“Approving nod,” Cyn said with a smile, seemingly pleased with his response.

N chuckled softly, though his thoughts lingered on Nori’s earlier remark. There’d been a deliberate emphasis on the fact that he was a man. Why? And, for that matter, why were there no men anywhere on the estate? Was he truly the only one? He didn’t dare ask Cyn directly—it felt too soon for such a question—but he made a mental note to seek answers elsewhere, perhaps from someone within this so-called inner circle.

“Oh,” Cyn added, as though remembering something important, “I should mention that both Nori and Uzi are speakers. While it won’t be your primary duty, you’ll be on standby during their prayers in case something unexpected occurs.”

N blinked. “Speakers?”

“Yes,” Cyn said.

N took a moment to process this before his jaw dropped slightly. 

Speakers.

In the Solver’s faith, being blessed was rare enough to elevate someone to near-mythical status. But being a speaker? That was just as good. While their healing wasn’t as effective as the blessed, and couldn’t be shared with others, their worth lay in another ability. Speakers didn’t just possess less potent regenerative blood compared to the blessed—they could communicate directly with the Solver during prayer, hence the name. It was an ability N had always envied, the kind of connection to the divine he could only dream of.

Imagine having the ability to speak with the Solver itself. To ask questions, to receive answers, to feel that direct line of communication. To N, the silver hair, golden eyes, and healing blood of the blessed paled in comparison. Speakers were the ones who should have been considered to have earned the name.

And that was what made Cardinal Cyn so extraordinary. She was not only blessed, but also a speaker at the same time, perhaps more effectively than any of the other speakers. The rare combination made her the closest thing to a living bridge between the Solver and its followers. She could heal, she could guide, and she could commune with the divine. There had never been anyone else like her in the history of their faith, or mankind in general. 

“As you may already know,” Cyn said, interrupting his thoughts, “all the speakers in the world have been gathered here. They are part of the inner circle, and you will not find them anywhere else. Our Church takes pride in the fact we are the only religion on the planet to have contact with our beloved deity, and we owe it to their efforts.”

N nodded slowly, his thoughts still tangled as he watched Nori and Uzi disappear down the path. He felt a gentle tug on his sleeve, followed by Cyn’s voice, whispering, “Tug, tug, tug.”

Startled, he turned to meet her gaze. She smiled—an expression so perfectly composed it felt almost practiced, fake in a way—and gestured for him to follow. Despite his lingering thoughts, N fell into step behind her, the soft crunch of their footsteps filling the silence.

He was still trying to reconcile the fact that he had just spoken with someone who could hear the Solver’s voice. The idea was staggering in a way he hadn’t anticipated. If he’d learned anything about the Solver, it was that it was a silent entity without a voice. Distant, and unknowable—except, apparently, for people like Nori and Uzi.

Their next stop was the dormitories. Cyn hoped to find the remaining members of the inner circle within their dwellings so that they, too, could meet the new Pastor. The dorm lobby was a grand space, its high ceilings decorated with carvings depicting the Solver’s symbol interwoven with abstract designs that seemed to shift if viewed too long.

Inside, lounging around a low table, were three figures playing cards, the trio entirely absorbed in their game.

The first was a woman with short, jagged purple bangs—darker than the shades N had seen on Nori and Uzi. Her eyes burned bright red, like burning coals in a forge, and around her neck hung a necklace identical to the one N wore.

Seated to her right was a younger girl who could have been her miniature. She had the same striking purple hair, though longer and tied back to her hips, and the same fiery red eyes—or, rather, eye. Her right eye was obscured by a peculiar eyepatch that looked more like an oversized button than anything meant to obscure vision.

Across the table, a taller woman with hazelnut hair tied in a ponytail leaned back in her chair, her amber eyes darting between her cards. Despite the sweltering Australian heat outside, she wore a fur trapper hat, complete with small antlers protruding from either side. It gave her an almost comical appearance—except for the sharpness in her gaze, which left no doubt she was someone worth taking seriously.

The hazel-haired woman was the first to notice them. She straightened slightly, setting her cards down. “Cardinal,” she greeted.

“добрый день,” chimed the other two in unison.

“Ah, fantastic to see you three here,” Cyn said, her tone brighter. “I was hoping to find you. I’d like to introduce our newest Pastor, N.”

Taking this as his cue, N stepped forward with a polite wave. “Salutations! I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The hazel-haired woman was the first to respond. She stood, and like Nori before her, closed the distance between them with a confidence that bordered on intimidating. N quickly realized she was nearly his height, an unusual feat given his above-average stature. She extended a hand, her grin wide.

“Well, howdy there, big fella,” she said, her grip firm as they shook hands. It was then that he was able to place where he’d heard that accent from. Texan, if his memory served right. He’d remember some of the Deacons from his home Church with such accents.

“I’m Alice. Nice ta finally put a face to the name,” she continued. “Cardinal’s been talkin’ ya up quite a bit.”

N shot a glance at Cyn, who offered a knowing smile and a small wave.

“Nice to meet you, too,” N replied. He hesitated, then asked, “Would you happen to be from Texas?”

Her grin widened. “Born and raised! Heard you’re from the States, too. Whereabouts?”

“Mississippi,” N answered, earning an approving nod from her. “So, what are your duties?”

“I’m the Priest charged with providing comfort, prayers, or sacraments ta those unable ta attend church, such as the elderly or the sick. I’m also in charge of the Church’s medical staff, so if ya have any problems, let me know.”

They broke the handshake, and N turned to greet the other two women, who remained seated and silent. Their stares were… not too pleasant, to say the least. It felt more like they were scrutinizing him, like a specimen under a magnifying glass. He shifted slightly, his confidence wavering, until Cyn stepped in.

“Timely intervention,” she said smoothly. “Pastor N, allow me to introduce Sister Yeva and her daughter, Doll. They’ve been bouncing around Churches for years, shortly after they both began hearing the Solver’s voice. They came to Australia from Russia, going from Church to Church before eventually transferring here.”

N blinked, surprised.

“They are speakers,” Cyn added, “but they are not fluent in English. I hope you will forgive their silence.”

Turning to the pair, Cyn switched seamlessly to Russian. “Это новый пастор. Пожалуйста, относитесь к нему с добротой.”

N’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t known Cyn spoke Russian—or perhaps he hadn’t considered it. In fact, he wasn’t even sure she was from this country. She could've been Russian for all he knew. Where the Cardinal had come from, and what she did before was still a mystery to most.

Cyn turned back to him. “Yeva is a Priest responsible for training clergy across several nearby Churches, so she travels often. Her daughter, Doll, holds a unique role within the Church of Null. She is a Deacon tasked with investigating and addressing rumors of unorthodox practices or heresy within the faith across the region, so she too leaves the Church a considerable amount. Since they are also speakers, you will see them during prayers along with Uzi and Nori.”

N’s brow furrowed. Heresy? The word felt foreign to him. His Church back home had never faced such issues—perhaps a testament to its small, tightly knit congregation. But the Church of Null was an entirely different entity, vast and sprawling, with connections and influence reaching across the globe. It made sense, he supposed, that such an institution would attract its share of dissent.

“Well,” N said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m not sure if you two understand me, but it’s nice to meet you.”

The pair regarded him silently. Finally, Yeva gave a small huff. “...Nice to meet you too,” she said, her English heavily accented but clear enough to understand.

N flinched, startled but pleased, and smiled. “Thank you!”

Yeva said nothing further, but her daughter, Doll, tilted her head slightly, her one visible eye narrowing as though cataloging every detail about him. After a moment, she leaned back in her chair, seemingly satisfied.

“Well,” Cyn said, “shall we move on? There are still a few others for you to meet, Pastor.”

“There’s more?” N asked, raising a brow.

“Yes, just a handful,” she replied. Then, turning to Alice, she inquired, “Sister Alice, Sister Yeva, is everyone in their rooms?”

Alice, now seated, shook her head. “Only little ol’ Emily. Her sister’s probably off tendin’ ta the library right about now. Lizz and Becca are doin’ laundry. As fer the other three…” She shrugged, her grin turning wry. “Up ta the usual, I’d reckon.”

Cyn hummed, tapping her chin. “Thinking. Well, that’s unfortunate, but it shouldn’t take us too long to gather everyone. Come along, Pastor. Let’s go meet dear Emily first.”

With that, she set off down one of the dormitory’s winding hallways. N followed, his suitcase and luggage trailing obediently behind him.

After several turns, he began to realize just how sprawling the dormitory was. The architecture had a way of disorienting him, with its subtly curving hallways and the faint echo of their footsteps that made the space feel larger than it likely was. His arms were starting to ache from carrying his bags, but he gritted his teeth and pushed on. He wasn’t about to ask Cyn for help—not when she was already going to such lengths to personally introduce him to everyone. Besides, he told himself, it was good exercise.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a door with a small brass plaque that read, “Emily.” Cyn rapped her knuckles against the wood in a steady rhythm—once, twice, then thrice.

From inside came a startled yelp, followed by the unmistakable sounds of frantic shuffling and something heavy crashing to the ground. N raised a brow, glancing at Cyn for clarification.

She offered him a sheepish smile. “Realization. I may have forgotten that Emily is… a bit jumpy.”

Ah. That explained the commotion.

After a few moments of muffled chaos, the door creaked open just enough to reveal the person within. Standing in the doorway was a smaller girl, about the same size as Uzi, with bright cyan eyes that seemed impossibly large behind her half-oval glasses. Her black hair was tied into pigtails that framed her pale, freckled cheeks, and her oversized shirt hung awkwardly on her petite frame, as though she’d borrowed it from someone twice her size.

Behind her, N caught sight of the room itself. Books. Hundreds of them. They lined the walls, filled the shelves, and were stacked precariously on every available surface. It was less a dormitory and more of a literary fortress, where paperbacks and hardcovers had claimed dominion over the space.

Emily’s gaze landed squarely on N’s chest, her eyes widening as she slowly tilted her head upward to meet his. N, for his part, offered her a small, reassuring smile and a quick wave.

She let out a soft, involuntary “eep!” and stumbled backward, her hands flying up to cover her face, which had turned a shade of red that could make tomatoes jealous.

Cyn stifled a chuckle. “Emily, this is Pastor N,” she said gently. “He’ll be joining us from now on.”

Emily peeked out from behind her fingers, her cyan eyes darting nervously between Cyn and N. “H-hi,” she squeaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

N’s smile widened slightly, trying to keep his expression as friendly as possible. To him, Emily looked kind of like a frightened animal. “Hello, Emily. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her response was another muffled squeak as she ducked her head, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose in the process.

“Emily is one of our two head librarians,” Cyn explained to N. “She ensures the proper cataloging of our archives. The information stored in our library is extremely valuable, so in turn she’s quite indispensable, though she doesn’t seem to realize it.”

Emily shook her head frantically at the praise, muttering something unintelligible into her hands.

“Modesty,” Cyn said with a knowing smile. “One of her finest traits.”

N chuckled, glancing at the stacks of books beyond her. “Well, I can see she’s dedicated. This is impressive.”

At that, Emily peeked out from behind her hands again, her blush still lingering but her expression softening slightly. “T-thank you,” she mumbled.

Cyn gave her a small nod. “We won’t keep you, Emily. I know you’re busy.” She gestured for N to follow her as she turned back toward the hallway.

As they walked away, N glanced over his shoulder one last time. Emily was still standing in the doorway, watching them with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. He offered her another wave, which she hesitantly returned before retreating back into her fortress of books.

“She’s sweet,” N said as they rounded a corner.

“Agreeing nod. She is,” Cyn replied. “And quite brilliant, though she’d never admit it. But, as you can see, she’s… easily startled. Best to approach her gently.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” N replied.

By the time Cyn came to a stop, they stood before another door, though it didn’t seem to belong to any of the inner circle members. The brass nameplate mounted on the wood caught N’s attention immediately. His name—just the letter “N”—was intricately carved into it, the curves and flourishes resembling the kind of calligraphy one might find on a piece of fine parchment paper.

N blinked, then pointed at the door, then at Cyn, as if trying to confirm he wasn’t imagining things. “Is that… my room?”

“That would be correct,” Cyn replied with a small nod.

N opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, his brow furrowing. “But… Cardinal, I’m a man! Isn’t this the women’s dorm?”

“It is.”

N gestured vaguely at the hallway around them, his words tumbling out in a half-flustered rush. “But I thought the whole point of dorms like these was to separate men and women? Privacy? Boundaries? Making sure no one accidentally runs into someone in their pajamas?”

Cyn folded her hands neatly in front of her, her composure unwavering. “Nod. That is indeed the case. However, given the nature of your duties, we deemed it more efficient for you to stay here, in close proximity to the inner circle members. Your work will involve them almost exclusively, and this arrangement minimizes unnecessary travel between buildings.”

N tilted his head slightly, her explanation making a certain kind of sense, though it still left him feeling vaguely uneasy. “Efficient. Right.”

She continued, her voice reassuring but matter-of-fact. “If your concern is the potential for any… unintended encounters, rest assured, we’ve accounted for that. A separate bathroom has been installed for your exclusive use, and the layout ensures there is no overlap in shared spaces.”

N blinked, absorbing the information. “I… see. And you’re sure this was the most optimal action to take?”

“absolutely,” Cyn said with a smile.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at the door. “Well,” he muttered, mostly to himself, “I suppose I’ll just have to make sure I don’t, uh… accidentally cause any misunderstandings.”

“That would be wise,” Cyn replied, her tone just dry enough to suggest she wasn’t entirely oblivious to his discomfort.

N sighed, reaching for the door handle. “Since we are already outside my room, may I leave my luggage inside?”

“Of course, Pastor. While you’re at it, do take a look around and voice your thoughts.”

The door opened with a soft click, revealing a room that was far larger than he’d expected. The space was a curious blend of modern practicality and old-world elegance, with a bed neatly tucked into one corner and a sturdy desk by the window with a lamp on top in the shape of the Solvers symbol. Shelves lined the walls, already stocked with blank notebooks, ink, and a variety of texts he didn’t yet recognize. A wardrobe stood to one side, its ornate carvings mirroring the intricate design of his nameplate.

The window, framed by heavy golden curtains, offered a view of the estate’s sprawling grounds. The sunlight filtering through cast a warm, golden glow across the room, making it feel unexpectedly inviting.

“Well,” N said after a moment, stepping inside. “It’s… cozy. And by cozy, I mean this is probably bigger than my office back home.”

Cyn followed him inside, her gaze sweeping the room. “We wanted to ensure you had everything you might need. If there’s anything missing, please don’t hesitate to inform me.”

N set his suitcase and luggage down by the bed, letting out a long breath. “I have no complaints, Cardinal. This is more than I was expecting.”

She inclined her head slightly. “I’m pleased to hear that. Your comfort is important to us, Pastor.”

As Cyn spoke, N’s thoughts wander. He was the only man in this dorm, surrounded by a group of women whose roles and abilities were as mysterious as they were impressive. The inner circle. Speakers. People who could hear the Solver’s voice, who wielded influence he could barely comprehend.

And now, somehow, he was part of it.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done to prepare for my arrival,” he said to Cyn sincerely. “It means a lot.”

“It’s the least we could do, Pastor,” Cyn said, her voice as calm and composed as ever. “You are a valuable addition to our congregation. Now, if you’re ready, shall we continue with the introductions? Sister Alice mentioned that Lizzy and Rebecca are tending to the laundry, so that shall be our next destination.”

N nodded, rising from the bed and adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. With his carry-ons no longer weighing him down, he felt significantly lighter, both physically and mentally. As he followed Cyn out of the dorm’s living area, he took a moment to stretch his arms, enjoying the newfound sense of freedom.

“Now,” Cyn began, her tone changing to informative, “while we did renovate to include a private bathroom for your use, the laundry facilities are shared with the rest of the dorm. My advice would be to arrange a laundry schedule with the others to avoid any… awkward encounters.”

“Understood,” N replied. “I assume with this many people, it can get quite hectic on laundry day.”

Cyn’s lips twitched. “It does, that is why it’s best to be prepared. Lizzy, in particular, has a reputation for monopolizing the dryer.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” N said. “Any chance there’s a timetable sheet I can right my name down on, or is this more of a first-come, first-served kind of arrangement?”

“We’re not quite so formal as to require sign-ups,” Cyn replied, glancing at him over her shoulder. “But a degree of diplomacy goes a long way, and will make matters easier. I trust you’ll navigate the arrangement with grace.”

The further they went, the more he noticed small touches that spoke of the residents’ personalities—a stray cardigan draped over a chair, a row of mismatched shoes neatly lined up by a door, and even a stray mug on a windowsill with the words “World’s Okayest Deacon” emblazoned on it in fading print.

They also passed by a number of residents' rooms, each decorated in their own unique way that gave N a glimpse into what they’d be like when he eventually got to interacting with everyone more. He made sure to take mental notes as they passed each one, as they could be used as conversation topics for later.

The room labeled “Nori” had stickers of rock bands and anime figures he didn’t recognize. And right in the middle of the door, there was a very good drawing of Nori herself, yelling the words “Cabin Fever Church for life!”

“Cabin Fever Church?” N whispered to himself. He hadn’t said it all too loud, but Cyn had picked up on his words regardless.

“That is the Church Nori and Alice originally come from. She doesn’t talk about it too much, but Nori does miss it.”

“Does she not visit?”

Cyn shook her head. “The Church fell many years ago, during a revolt from dissenters. The wreckage was scavenged, and now all that is left are ruins. After that, she was transferred to the Church of Copper-9, and after a few years, transferred here to Australia. She doesn’t really bring it up, but Nori does dearly miss her home.”

N kept his mouth shut, not at all sure how to respond to that. Thankfully, Cyn didn’t seem to be looking for a reply, as she kept her face forward and walking. N look at the other rooms they passed to distract his mind from such sombre thoughts.

There was a door labeled “Uzi” that was similar to her mothers, except this door had been painted purple, with lots of emo visual representation, such as skull stickers, lightning bolts and of course, anime.

They passed Yeva’s door, who’s only bit of personalisation was the Russian flag printed on the door. Doll’s door was just as barren, with only a single, large button print on it—the same button she wore over her eye.

As expected, Alice’s room had a print of the American flag, and below that, the Texas flag. Though, what really drew his attention was the basket of machine parts placed right next to her door. What they were for, he had no clue.

There were a few other rooms too, though they weren’t decorated like the others. Just plain.

Eventually, they arrived at a door marked with a simple plaque that read “Laundry Room”. From within, N could hear the faint churning of machines and the occasional muffled sound of voices.

Cyn opened the door, stepping inside, and N followed.

The laundry room was larger than he’d expected, with rows of washers and dryers humming softly. The space smelled faintly of detergent and clean cotton, the kind of warm, comforting scent that made you think of home. In the center of the room, two women were seated at a bench, talking as they waited for the machines to finish.

The first was a woman with blonde hair tied into a messy ponytail, and bubblegum pink eyes. Unlike all the others so far who had been in uniform that hid the details of their body, she wore a crop-top and booty shorts, both a bit too small on her curvaceous figure. Beside her, a woman with short blue hair with a streak of purple, and teal colored eyes, wearing the same crop-top, but with skinny jeans. And like the blonde, the clothes seemed just a bit too tight. At first glance, one would assume the two were supermodels or something of the like.

“Lizzy, Rebecca,” Cyn called gently, drawing their attention.

The blonde, Lizzy, was the first to respond. She glanced up lazily, raising a brow before throwing up a peace sign. “Sup, Cyn,” she said, her tone a little too casual for N’s liking.

N stiffened slightly, his brow furrowing at the audacity. Addressing the Cardinal with such nonchalance? Really? But a quick glance at Cyn revealed no hint of offense. Her expression remained as neutral as ever, her lips curling faintly as though Lizzy’s greeting amused rather than annoyed her.

Forcing himself to relax, N tried to brush off his initial reaction.

Lizzy’s gaze shifted to him, her pink eyes narrowing slightly as she tilted her head, studying him. “And this must be the new guy, huh?”

The second woman, Rebecca, leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as teal eyes sparkled. “The famous Pastor N,” she purred. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” N replied, his smile polite, though his grip on his composure tightened slightly under her scrutiny.

Lizzy grinned, her posture relaxing even further as she slung an arm over the back of the bench. “Don’t worry, hot stuff. It’s all been glowing reviews. Though I gotta admit…” Her grin widened, and her pink eyes glinted playfully. “None of them have done you justice. You’re a lot cuter in person.”

N blinked, heat rising to his cheeks. “C-cute?” he stammered, caught completely off guard.

Rebecca’s lips curled into a slow smile as she leaned even further forward. “Awww, look at the way he blushes,” she added. “Adorable.”

N felt his ears burn, unsure whether to laugh, protest, or quietly retreat. “I’m not sure whether to say thank you or defend my dignity.”

“Why not both?” Lizzy suggested with a wink.

Cyn cleared her throat, stepping forward between the three. “Interrupting. Lizzy. Rebecca. Let’s maintain a semblance of professionalism, shall we?”

Lizzy held up her hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Cardinal. We’re just having a little fun.”

Rebecca, meanwhile, shifted back in her seat, still smirking. “We’re just getting to know the new guy.”

Cyn exhaled sharply, her gaze flicking between the two women before landing on N. “Pastor N,” she said, gesturing to the two girls, “allow me to introduce Sister Lizzy and Sister Rebecca. Lizzy is the Deacon responsible for managing ceremonial preparations and ensuring the clergy’s attire is maintained to the highest standard. She also controls the Churches online presence and publicity, as well as advertising. Rebecca is responsible for overseeing many of the Church’s outreach programs and charitable initiatives.”

N nodded, still a bit flustered but determined to maintain his composure. “It’s nice to meet you both,” he said, offering a polite smile.

“Likewise,” Rebecca replied, her tone warmer now.

“Yeah,” Lizzy added, flashing him another grin. “Welcome to the madhouse.”

“Madhouse?” N repeated, raising a brow.

Lizzy shrugged. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Before he could press further, Cyn placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Shoulder grab. We have a few more introductions to make,” she said. “It’s best we go now to make sure you’ll be unpacked in time for dinner.”

N nodded, glancing once more at Lizzy and Rebecca before following Cyn toward the door. As it clicked shut behind them, he exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

“Well,” he muttered, “they are… an interesting pair.”

Cyn chuckled. “Laughing. They can be… spirited. But they mean well, and they are deeply devoted to the faith, even if their antics are a bit unorthodox.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” N replied, though a small, charmed smile tugged at his lips.

Their next stop was the library. Exiting the dormitory, N and Cyn walked down the stone paths, their steps echoing faintly in the growing stillness of the evening. The sun was sinking lower now, painting the sky in a hazy gradient of purples and oranges. Long shadows stretched across the grounds, and N could see bats beginning to emerge, their fluttering silhouettes darting upward as they took to the skies in search of their nightly feast.

The faint, insistent hum of mosquitoes reached his ears, the insects already on their nightly quest for sustenance. N resisted the urge to swat at nothing, making a mental note to locate some repellant before the bites began piling up.

Ahead of them loomed the library.

It wasn’t just a building—it was a colossus, towering so high it seemed to blot out the remnants of daylight from where N stood. As they stepped inside, N was immediately struck by the scent—rich and heady, the unmistakable aroma of old paper, ink, and wood polished by centuries of use. It was the kind of smell that hit you like a wall and stayed with you long after you left. Here, though, it was amplified, as if the sheer concentration of books had transformed the air itself into something tangible.

The interior was staggering. From where he stood at the entrance, N could see floors that descended far underground, their depths illuminated by soft, golden light. Towering bookshelves stretched upward, disappearing into the gloom above. Some of them were so tall they looked as though they could rival buildings in height, their contents arranged with a precision that suggested equal parts dedication and obsession.

Cyn gestured for him to follow as she descended the wide stone staircase leading to the first underground level. N trailed behind, his gaze darting between the countless rows of shelves. Deacons moved between the aisles, some carrying stacks of books, others flipping through pages as they walked by. Their robes swished softly in the quiet, blending into the faint rustling of paper and the occasional creak of wooden steps.

Cyn led him with confidence, weaving through the labyrinthine aisles until they reached a reception desk situated in a quieter corner of the floor. Behind the desk sat a figure hunched over a journal, her pen scratching softly against the paper.

N slowed as they approached, his curiosity piqued. The girl behind the desk didn’t seem to notice their arrival, too absorbed in whatever she was writing. This gave N the chance to observe her more closely.

At first glance, she looked remarkably similar to Emily—enough that N briefly wondered if they might be related. The resemblance was striking: the same pale skin dusted with freckles, the same delicate features framed by glasses. But the similarities stopped there.

This girl’s glasses were square rather than oval, and her black hair was tied into short twin ponytails that gave her a slightly more composed, mature air. She was also taller than Emily, standing at the same height as Lizzy and Rebecca rather than Emily’s petite stature. And where Emily’s eyes were a bright, almost startling cyan, this girl’s were a deep, rich blue that reminded N of polished lapis lazuli. 

He also took note that everywhere on the desk, were sprawled notes with drawings on them, and by the Solver were they good drawings.

“Kelsey,” Cyn greeted.

The girl looked up, startled, and blinked a few times as she registered their presence. She adjusted her glasses, her expression shifting quickly from surprise to polite curiosity.

“Cardinal Cyn,” she greeted back. Her gaze flicked briefly to N before returning to Cyn. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to introduce our new Pastor,” Cyn replied, stepping aside slightly to gesture at N. “Pastor N, this is Sister Kelsey, the library’s other head librarian.”

Kelsey’s eyes shifted back to N, scanning him briefly but thoroughly. There was something in her stare that made him feel warm, almost at home in a weird way. 

N offered her a friendly smile, lifting a hand in a small wave. “It’s nice to meet you, Sister Kelsey. This library is… incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.”

Kelsey’s lips curved into a smile. “Thank you! We take great pride in maintaining it. The library is one of the Church’s most important resources, after all.”

“I can see why,” N said, glancing around again at the seemingly endless shelves. “How do you even begin to organize something this massive?”

Kelsey adjusted her glasses again, chuckling. “Meticulously.”

“Right,” N said, chuckling softly. “That tracks.”

Cyn coughed into her hand, getting both of their attention. “Cough. Cough. Kelsey is one of our most dedicated scholars,” she explained to N. “She’s responsible for cataloging new additions to the library and assisting with any research requests from the clergy.”

“It’s a demanding role,” Kelsey added, “but a fulfilling one.”

“I can imagine,” N replied. “I’ll try not to interrupt your work too often.”

Kelsey gave him another brief smile before returning her attention to Cyn. “Will he need access to the restricted archives?”

“Not immediately,” Cyn replied. “But in time, yes.”

N raised a brow. “Restricted archives?”

Kelsey glanced at him, steepling her fingers. “Certain texts are reserved for clergy with higher clearance. They contain knowledge that is… sensitive .”

“Ah,” N said, nodding slowly. “Sounds ominous.”

“It’s precautionary,” Kelsey clarified. “We have to be sure those given access are trustworthy.”

Cyn gently took N by the wrist, steering him back toward the steps. “Grab. We’ll discuss that another time. For now, there are still others to meet.”

N followed, casting one last glance at Kelsey as she smiled and waved him goodbye, and then promptly returned to her journal. 

The library’s vastness seemed even more overwhelming as they climbed, the enormity of the space sinking deeper. He glanced at Cyn as they reached the main level. “So… how much of this am I actually allowed to read?”

“For now? Just the basic material. We’ll build from there, as you’ll naturally gain more authority the longer you stay. Charming smile.”

“Of course,” N said. As they stepped outside, the cool evening air brushed against his face, a welcome contrast to the stuffiness of the library’s interior. Even at night, the temperature carried a balmy weight, though the breeze made it bearable.

Cyn turned to him, her expression as composed as ever. “Rest assured, Pastor. We only have one more place to visit. The remainder of the inner circle should be there.”

N took a steadying breath and nodded. “Please lead the way, Cardinal.”

Their walk took them deeper into the estate, the stone paths winding through manicured lawns and towering trees that seemed to whisper in the evening breeze. Overhead, the last traces of sunlight gave way to deep purple hues, the first stars beginning to blink into existence. The faint chirping of crickets joined the rhythmic crunch of their steps, the sound oddly calming.

Eventually, they arrived at their destination—a building that stood in stark contrast to the ornate elegance of the rest of the estate. This structure was imposing, with sharp angles and a utilitarian design that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a government district. Flags bearing the Solver’s yellow emblem on black fabric hung from its facade, fluttering in the wind like solemn sentinels.

N slowed as they approached, his brow furrowing. “What… is this?” he asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and unease.

“The administration building,” Cyn replied, her tone calm but authoritative. “This is where most of the Church’s higher-level decisions are made. You’ll also find my office and quarters here.”

N took in the building again, his gaze lingering on the severe architecture. It felt less like a place of worship and more like the epicenter of a sprawling institution. Practical. Intimidating. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath.

Cyn led the way inside, their footsteps echoing sharply against the polished tile floor. The walls were lined with paintings and photographs, some depicting the Solver—at least, artistic interpretations of what the Solver might look like. Others were of Cyn herself, though many appeared to have been taken when she was much younger.

N’s attention caught on one recurring figure in those photographs. Beside the young Cyn stood another girl with caramel-toned skin, hair like black licorice, and honey-colored eyes. 

Staring at the pictures, N’s mind began to piece things together. This must be Tessa James Elliot, a name he’d heard in whispers and passing rumors. From what he knew, Tessa had been raised alongside Cyn from a young age, their relationship akin to that of siblings. Beyond that, though, Tessa was just as much of a mystery as Cyn was.

Cyn stopped in front of a pair of grand double doors, flanked by two Deacons. Both women snapped to attention as they approached, their gazes briefly flicking to N before returning to Cyn. Their expressions betrayed a flicker of surprise, though they quickly masked it.

“Is the Bishop inside?” Cyn asked.

One of the Deacons shook her head. “Not at the current moment, dear Cardinal. She stepped out but should return shortly.”

Cyn tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… What about the Vicar General and the Head Priest?”

The other Deacon gestured to the doors with a nod. “They’re waiting inside for the Bishop to return.”

“Perfect.” Cyn smiled faintly, then turned to N. “Come, Pastor. I’ll introduce you to two of our most vital Church leaders.”

The Deacons pushed the doors open, stepping aside to allow Cyn and N to enter. The room beyond was grand, its design reminding him of the Oval Office in America, though with an added layer of refinement and elegance. Rich, dark wood paneling lined the walls, while a massive desk sat at the far end, its surface immaculately organized.

Seated on either side of the room were two women, their gazes locking onto N the moment he stepped inside.

N felt his breath catch.

“Pastor,” Cyn began, her tone formal, “allow me to introduce J, the Vicar General, and V, the Head Priest.” She gestured to the left, then to the right.

Like himself and Cyn, both J and V had silver hair, and deep golden eyes, marking them as blessed. The woman on the left had her hair styled into pigtails, and wore a rather sharp black blazer with a yellow dress shirt underneath, and a pencil skirt that gave her a look of pure professionalism. Though, even with her smart choice of clothing, N could see the outline of her breasts were still quite large, like a beast unable to be tamed and refusing to stay in its cage.

The woman on the right had her hair in a short bob cut, and wore a black, short sleeved crop-coat with a fur collar and a yellow singlet beneath, and finished her look with black pleated dress pants, and like J, her chest was quite… bountiful, to say the least. Both women finished their looks with high heels, and looked drop-dead gorgeous to boot.

“These two are J the Vicar General, and Head Priest V,” said Cyn, pointing to each respectively. “J aids Tessa and I in administrative tasks, and when dealing with our Church sponsors and business partners, while V runs the confession booth in the cathedral, and will occasionally lead missionary trips to other regions, where she can preach and spread our faith.”

J was the first to speak of the two. She kept her tone formal, but N could feel an underlying bit of hostility in her voice. “Pastor N… It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” V added. She didn’t seem as bitter as J, but to N, her voice and the way she said it almost made it sound like she was talking to a piece of steak rather than an actual human. Didn’t help that she was eyeing him up very openly.

N bowed his head slightly. “The pleasure is mine. I’ve never seen any other blessed before today, and so many to boot. It’s an honor to meet you both.” He then tapped his chin in thought, considering their names. “And we even all have single letter names. Perhaps this is fate?.”

“That observation is not without merit,” Cyn said to him. “The most likely explanation is that all of you were named in honor of the original twenty-six blessed.”

“The original blessed?” N asked, glancing at her.

Cyn nodded. “According to our records, the first individuals to receive the Solver’s blessing were each named after a single letter of the alphabet. It was meant to symbolize their unity as a collective whole, each letter playing a vital role in the divine script.”

“And our names?” N pressed. “Chosen on purpose, or just coincidence?”

Cyn smiled faintly. “Whether your name was selected with intent or assigned at random is something only your parents—or perhaps the Solver itself—could answer.”

J crossed her legs as she leaned back slightly in her chair. “It hardly matters, does it?” she said sharply. “What defines us is how we live up to those names.”

“Or don’t,” V added, her lips curling into a predatory smirk.

Before the conversation could drift further, a knock sounded at the door, drawing their attention. One of the Deacons stepped inside, bowing slightly. “Cardinal Cyn, the Bishop has returned.”

“Ah,” Cyn said, her tone brightening slightly. “Perfect timing. Pastor N, I believe you’ll find meeting her to be quite enlightening.”

J and V exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable, before settling back in their chairs.

As the doors closed, he glanced at Cyn. “The Bishop… Tessa James Elliot, I presume?”

Cyn’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You presume correctly.”

Like clockwork, the double doors swung open not even ten seconds later, revealing the final member of the Church’s inner circle.

N recognized her instantly as the girl from the photographs, the one who had always stood beside Cyn with a mischievous grin and honey-colored eyes full of curiosity. Of course, those photos were from a different era. The woman who strode into the room now bore little resemblance to the carefree child she had once been—aside from the piercing gaze and the undeniable air of confidence.

Tessa James Elliot, now grown, was dressed sharply in a black suit paired with a yellow dress shirt, the Solver’s signature colors. Her attire was tailored to perfection, accentuating a figure that was as striking as any other member of the inner circle. Around her neck hung a necklace, identical to the ones worn by Yeva and N.

But what caught N’s attention most was the large black bow perched neatly behind her head. It was an odd touch on her otherwise professional attire, one that seemed at once out of place and entirely fitting—like a piece of her childhood that she refused to leave behind.

As she stepped into the room, she groaned loudly, voice thick with a heavy Australian accent. “Bloody hell, and to think those idiots are the ones running the country… Unbelievable.”

She sounded like someone who had just left an argument that hadn’t gone in her favor—or perhaps it had, and the incompetence she’d encountered still left her frustrated. When Tessa finally looked up, her honey-colored eyes widened slightly at the sight of so many people in the room. She froze for half a second before taking a startled step back. “Oh, crikey! What’s all this, then?”

Cyn stifled a laugh, moving behind Tessa. “Shoving,” she said as she guided Tessa forward with a gentle push. “Dear Tessa, we’ve gathered here to introduce you to our new Pastor. The one we discussed not too long ago.”

Tessa blinked, the confusion clearing from her face as she glanced back at Cyn. “Oh, really? He’s finally here?” Her gaze shifted to N, and he felt her eyes as they scanned him from head to toe. “You’re Pastor N?” she asked.

N nodded, his throat feeling a touch dry. It was only after she entered the room did N realize who he was going to be speaking to. Tessa was the Bishop, second only to Cyn in terms of authority and influence. Her word carried immense power, and her decisions shaped the direction of the Church itself.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, keeping his voice as steady as he could.

Tessa tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to discern something unspoken. Then, she smiled, offering her hand out. “Well, it’s nice to meet ya, mate!”

“Likewise,” N replied breathlessly, taking her hand and shaking it. She seemed pretty friendly, which N was glad for. “And judging by the accent, I’m safe to assume you were born here?”

“Yep!” confirmed Tessa. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, ma’am. I just thought your voice sounded very pretty.” N cringed a little as the words left his mouth, but thankfully they seemed to have a much more positive effect on Tessa, and light pink filled her cheeks.

“I like him,” she said, turning to Cyn with a grin. “Sweet fella.”

Cyn’s lips twitched in a small smile. “I thought you might.”

Tessa turned back to N, her expression softening just slightly. “Well, Pastor N, welcome to the Church of Null. You’ll find we’re not exactly like the Church you came from. Things are… different here.”

N nodded again, his nerves settling a fraction. “I’ve noticed.”

“I’m sure you have. But don’t worry—we’ll get you up to speed.” She gestured toward the others in the room. “I’m guessing you’ve already met the rest of this lot?”

“I have,” N replied, glancing briefly at J and V, who watched the exchange in silence. “They’ve been very welcoming.”

Tessa snorted. “Welcoming, huh? Not the word I’d use, but whatever floats ya boat.”

As expected, Cyn took the lead, stepping forward with her usual poise to provide N with a thorough rundown of the Bishop and her duties. “As you already know,” she began, “Tessa is the Bishop. She oversees all the Churches in this region and manages our finances, estate upkeep, and business partnerships.”

N nodded, absorbing the information. It was a role that sounded just as important as the Cardinals job.

“Without her,” Cyn continued, her tone softening slightly, “the Church would not be where it is today.”

Tessa let out a short laugh and rubbed her arms. “Daww, stop it, Cyn! You’ll make me blush,” she said, though her grin betrayed that she didn’t entirely mind the praise. “Can’t take all the credit, though. Without J keeping things in line, I’d be wringing myself dry every day trying to manage it all.”

J, ever the picture of composed corporate perfection, inclined her head in acknowledgment. 

Tessa nodded back before turning her attention to N. “Well, Pastor, I’m looking forward to seeing what you bring to the table,” she said. “Just try and do your best, yeah? We don’t expect miracles—well, unless they’re literal.”

N couldn’t help but smile, his lips curving slightly. “I’ll make sure to bring only my best.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tessa replied with a grin, clapping her hands together. “And speaking of bringing things to the table—dinner’s starting soon. Why don’t we all head down to the cafeteria and grab some tucker? I don’t know about you lot, but I’m famished.”

Cyn nodded eagerly. “Eager nod. That is a fantastic idea! I’m sure you must be starving, Pastor,” she said. “Let us eat and prepare ourselves for the day ahead.”

Tessa gestured toward the door, leading the way with a confident stride. “Come on, then. Let’s go before Rebecca gets to the dessert table first and cleans it out.”

The cafeteria was a surprising blend of formality and warmth. Long tables stretched across the room, their surfaces lined with polished wood that gleamed under the soft glow of pendant lights. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted vegetables wafted through the air, mingling with the faint hum of conversation as Deacons and clergy gathered for dinner.

Tessa, already halfway across the room, waved them over to a table near the center. “Come on, no need to be shy. Best seats in the house!”

As they approached, N couldn’t help but notice how all the noise died down. Conversations quieted, and heads turned in their direction. It wasn’t overt or hostile—just silent acknowledgment of their presence, as if their little entourage were the stars walking up to a stage, and the crowd was watching in awe.

N sat between Cyn and Tessa, his plate quickly filled with an assortment of dishes that were both that he knew and some unfamiliar. He took a bite of a steak that was placed on his plate, and savoured the hints of rosemary and juice that flowed into his mouth.

“So,” Tessa said, leaning on the table, “how’re you finding everything so far, Pastor? Not too overwhelming, I hope?”

N paused, considering his words. “It’s… a lot to take in,” he admitted, “but in a good way. Aside from all the people I’ve met today, I don’t even know what my duties will be yet, and there’s so much to do here. I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“Fair answer,” Tessa replied with a smirk, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to scratching a bit more tomorrow.”

N raised his glass, and clicked it with hers. Cyn chuckled softly beside him, popping a bit of roast potato in her mouth.

As the meal continued, more and more of the inner circle began to join the table, slowly crowding up the space. N felt himself getting more and more squished, but he didn’t mind it. In the beginning, he felt a bit out of place in this estate, with so many highly important individuals and himself being the only man, but sitting here, looking at the table with everyone talking and eating together, it made him feel a bit more at home. 

N exhaled sharply, letting himself sink back into the bed. His legs were sore, dull, an ache spreading from his calves to his heels that constantly reminded him of how much ground he’d covered today. A remark Cyn made during dinner about the estate’s size and the constant movement it demanded hadn’t been an exaggeration. He could already imagine tomorrow would be more of the same.

He shifted slightly, trying to find that elusive sweet spot where the mattress cradled him just right. The faint scent of fresh linens and lilly’s rose around him. His eyelids drooped as the haze of exhaustion began to pull him under.

Then came a knock.

N groaned softly but forced himself upright. “Come in!” he called, trying to shake off the heavy fog of near-sleep.

The door opened to reveal Cyn standing in the hallway, her silver hair catching the faint light. She tilted her head slightly, lifting a hand in a small wave.

“Wave,” she said quietly. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Pastor.”

N rubbed his face with one hand, stifling a yawn. “Not at all, Cardinal. What’s on your mind?”

Cyn stepped just inside the room, leaning against the doorframe. “Nothing pressing. I just wanted to check in and see how you were settling in. It’s been quite the day, hasn’t it?”

N blinked at her, mildly surprised by the gesture. He wouldn’t have thought she’d have the time for surprise visits in the night, given how busy her role led him to believe. It was… unexpected, but not unwelcome.

“I appreciate it,” he replied after a moment, his voice thick with fatigue. “It has been a long day, but I think I’m holding up. It’s not all bad. This place is… something else. It feels like stepping into another reality entirely.”

Cyn nodded knowingly, her golden eyes holding his for a moment. “It’s natural to feel a little adrift,” she said gently. “But you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t meant to be. Trust in that, Pastor.”

The quiet conviction in her words made N want to believe them. He exhaled, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “Thank you, Cardinal. That actually… helps more than you know.”

Cyn straightened, brushing a hand down the front of her robes. “Brush, brush. I’m glad to hear that. Rest well, Pastor. Tomorrow will be another full day, and you’ll need your strength.”

“Goodnight, Cardinal,” N replied. The Cardinal nodded, moving outside. As the door closed with a soft click, N let himself fall back onto the bed. He closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the room wrap around him like a blanket, and letting sleep set in. Though, just before his consciousness drifted off, he heard Cyn from the otherside of the door, whispering in a sweet tone.

“I hope you find your stay here pleasant. Sweet dreams… Big Brother N.”

Chapter Text

The morning air was somehow different when you were in another country. It was fresh, and strangely invigorating in a way N hadn’t quite expected. It carried the faint scent of eucalyptus and sun-warmed earth, a stark contrast to the heavier, humid air he was used to back home. There was a clarity to it, as if every breath he took was filtering through leaves and open sky before reaching his lungs. He exhaled slowly, watching the mist of his breath disappear in the early light, then raised his arms high above his head, fingers interlocking as he stretched. The satisfying pop of his joints echoed through his room, and he let out a soft sigh, rolling his shoulders back to loosen any lingering stiffness from sleep.

Routine was important. Back at his home Church, physical labor had been a part of daily life—hauling supplies, moving heavy wooden pews, tending to the grounds. Even when his duties didn’t require it, he liked the discipline of keeping his body prepared for the unexpected. There was something about the rhythm of stretching, the methodical way each muscle was eased into motion, that helped him clear his mind before the demands of the day could take hold.

He started with his legs first, lifting one high until his foot hovered near his head, his hamstrings stretching to their limit as he balanced effortlessly. A deep inhale, steady control, then a slow release as he lowered it back down. He repeated the motion with the other leg, feeling the pull, the faint burn that told him he was pushing just enough to wake his body up properly. Moving seamlessly into lunges, he held each stance with precision, adjusting his posture to ensure the stretch reached deep into his thighs, his knees bending at the perfect angle. Each motion was more than just warming up, it was a reminder that his body was an instrument meant to be maintained, just as much as his faith, his mind, or his duty to the Church.

Next, his core. Dropping into a cobra pose, he pressed his palms into the ground, arching his back as his abdomen stretched taut. His head tilted back, eyes closing momentarily as he focused on his breathing, feeling the tension unravel from his stomach and lower spine. This stretch, simple as it was, had become one of his favorites—it always left him feeling more open, more fluid in his movements, ready to take on whatever the day threw at him. He held the position for a few long breaths, letting the sensation settle before rolling his shoulders once more and pushing himself upright.

As he stood, rolling out his neck, he took another deep breath of that crisp morning air. Today would be a long one—Cyn had already mentioned during dinner that he’d be moving around the estate a lot, learning the ins and outs of his role, familiarizing himself with the layout, and likely mingling with the Inner Circle. A bit of a daunting task, but one he greeted head on.

One last shake of his limbs, one final stretch of his arms toward the sky, and N was ready to begin.

N had yet to unpack his suitcases, leaving most of his clothing still neatly folded away in the confined space of his luggage. It wasn’t that he was avoiding it, but the idea of digging through packed belongings, arranging them into drawers and hangers, felt like a chore best reserved for when he wasn’t still adjusting to his new surroundings. Besides, with how much he’d already done the day before, unpacking felt like a task that could wait.

Instead, he turned his attention to the closet. The room had already surprised him with its size and furnishings—he figured it wouldn’t hurt to see if it held anything else of interest.

Swinging open the doors, he was met with an unexpected sight. Hanging neatly inside were several garments, all in pristine condition. Most were standard clerical robes, simple but well-tailored, but one piece in particular caught his eye. It was a cassock, sleek black with a row of golden buttons running down the front, giving it a regal yet understated appearance. Embroidered onto the back was the symbol of the Solver—its design stitched in the same beautiful gold, made from a thread that shimmered subtly in the low morning light.

His fingers brushed over the fabric, taking in its texture. It was different from what he usually wore back home—his old vestments had been a bit more ornate, favoring layered details and heavier materials—but this held its own appeal. It was refined, yet practical . Simpler, but no less striking .

He liked it.

Decision made, N set about changing. Shedding himself of his sleepwear, he carefully slid the cassock over his shoulders, smoothing the fabric into place before turning to the closet mirror to assess himself.

The reflection staring back at him was familiar yet new.

For the first time since arriving, he looked like a proper member of the Church of Null. Not an outsider, not a visitor from a distant congregation, but someone who belonged . It was strange, standing there in the uniform of his new station, the Solver’s emblem resting against his back like a guardian angel always watching over him.

He smiled.

With his attire settled and his spirits high, he grabbed his prayer book and made his way to the door, stepping out. Cyn had told him the previous evening that she would collect him in the dorm’s main lounge, where she would go over his schedule and expectations for the day. It wasn’t lost on him that this would likely be the true start of his work here—not just introductions and formalities, but his actual duties. He was eager to see what that entailed.

As he moved through the hallway, he passed by several closed doors, some with faint voices carrying through the wood, suggesting that a few of the other residents were already awake. Others remained silent, their occupants either still sleeping or simply keeping to themselves.

It was in passing that he spotted a familiar figure.

The Texan woman—Alice, if he remembered correctly—was making her way down the hall in the opposite direction, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. Unlike yesterday, when she had been lounging casually in the dormitory, today she was dressed far more professionally. A doctor’s coat draped over her shoulders, paired with a neatly pressed blouse and slacks. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, completing the look of someone who was both efficient and far too busy to be standing around idly.

She caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye and gave a quick, casual wave before continuing on her way, her boots clicking softly against the polished floors.

N returned the wave, though by the time his hand had lowered, she was already gone, disappearing around the corner with the same brisk pace of someone with far too many responsibilities and not enough time to see to them all.

He chuckled to himself before continuing on.

After a quick trip to his personal bathroom—an unexpected luxury he still wasn’t entirely used to—N took a moment to splash cool water onto his face, letting it run down his skin in an effort to shake off any lingering grogginess. The morning was still young, but he could already feel the day stretching ahead of him. He combed his fingers through his silver hair, straightened the cassock he had just put on, and took one last glance in the mirror before making his way toward the lounge.

He had passed through this area the night before, catching a brief glimpse of Alice, Yeva, and Doll seated around a table, playing cards in a quiet yet oddly intense game. The room itself had a cozy but well-used feel to it. It was a communal hub of sorts, a place where members of the dormitory could gather outside the solitude of their rooms.

Now, stepping inside, he found it almost empty—save for one lone occupant.

Doll.

She sat on a chair near the corner, dressed in her tunic and robes, her small frame almost swallowed by the oversized seat. A thick book rested in her lap, the pages slightly yellowed at the edges, a sign of frequent use. Her single visible eye, the one not obscured by the eyepatch she always wore, scanned the words with quiet focus.

N hesitated briefly before stepping forward. “Good morning, Doll,” he greeted, offering her a polite smile.

At first, there was no response. She didn’t flinch, didn’t acknowledge him in the usual way one would expect—just the faintest flick of her eye in his direction, as if debating whether he was worth diverting her attention from the book. Eventually, she looked up, meeting his gaze directly.

N held it, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

There was something almost unnerving about the way she stared at him, like she was peeling him apart layer by layer, analyzing every fiber of his being. It wasn’t hostile, nor was it particularly welcoming—it simply was . A test of sorts, perhaps, or just a natural part of how she interacted with the world.

A minute passed. Then two.

Finally, N hummed softly, not breaking eye contact but also not pushing further, as if accepting whatever silent assessment she was conducting. Eventually, as if satisfied—or maybe just disinterested—Doll turned her attention back to her book, the conversation ending as abruptly as it had begun.

N exhaled through his nose, leaning back slightly.

She was a strange one, that much he had gathered. Among all the people he had met so far, Uzi and Doll were the only ones who had yet to speak a single word to him. Whether it was a personal choice, a matter of circumstance, or something else entirely, he couldn’t say.

But he was curious.

For now, though, he let it be.

With nothing else to do but wait, he settled into the seat opposite her, pulling out his own book—his prayer book, the well-worn cover fitting comfortably in his hands. He flipped it open to one of his favorite verses, letting his eyes drift across the familiar lines, allowing the steady rhythm of the words to pass the time.

The silence between them lingered, stretching out not in awkwardness but in a kind of quiet equilibrium—two people content to exist in the same space without the need to fill the air with empty words. N found himself surprisingly at ease with it. There was a certain rare comfort in being near someone who expected nothing from him, who didn’t attempt to force conversation or demand engagement. He let his focus drift entirely into the prayer book in his hands, tracing each line, murmuring the words softly in his mind, though he was ever aware of the occasional flicker of movement in his periphery.

Doll was peeking at him. Or, more specifically, at what he was reading .

They were small, darting glances. She was careful, but not quite enough to go unnoticed. If anything, it only deepened N’s curiosity about her. 

But before he could comment—or even decide if he should comment—the quiet was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps.

The rhythm of the steps was light, carrying an air of grace that was impossible to mistake. When N finally lifted his head, it came as no surprise to see the Cardinal herself stepping into the lounge, as effortlessly radiant as ever.

Her attire was different from the previous day; rather than the elegant dress she had worn before, she now donned a black soutane, the high collar giving her a more formal, almost severe appearance. Yet, despite the simplicity of the garment, there was something commanding about it, something that only accentuated her presence rather than diminished it. The coif she always wore remained in place, framing her features, and tucked neatly under her arm was her own prayer book.

She looked entirely in her element.

N straightened instinctively, offering a warm smile as he greeted her. “Ah, good morning, Cardinal.”

“Привет,” came a soft voice beside him.

N blinked. That was the first time he had actually heard Doll speak. It was a single word, barely above a whisper.

Cyn’s lips curled into a pleased smile, her hands coming together in a delicate clasp. “Ah, good morning to you both. It’s wonderful to see you already prepared for the day, dear Pastor.”

N closed his book with a quiet snap . “But of course. I’m excited to get started.”

Cyn chuckled lightly, nodding in approval. “A wonderful mindset to have.” Then, she turned her attention to Doll, switching fluidly into Russian. “Остальные уже проснулись?”

N tilted his head slightly at the exchange, brows furrowing. He still found it fascinating that the Cardinal was fluent in Russian. It made sense in a way—Doll and Yeva were both from Russia, so it might’ve just been for the ease of communication, but there was a familiarity that suggested more than just casual knowledge. Had she spent time there? Was there some deeper history between her and them?

Doll kept things simple. She nodded once, and that seemed to be enough.

“Very good,” Cyn murmured, satisfied. Then, without missing a beat, she turned her attention back to N. “Well, let’s get you sorted, dear Pastor. First things first—you will be accompanying us to the cathedral to assist in the Speaker’s Prayers. The others should already be heading there, so we should make haste.”

N’s breath hitched slightly. “W-wait… I’m assisting with the prayers?” He barely stopped himself from gaping. “But Cardinal, I’m only a pastor . And I’ve barely been here a day!”

To an outsider, it might have seemed like a simple task—prayer was, after all, a fundamental part of his role. But this? This was different .

The Speakers were not just ordinary clergy members. They were the voices that carried the Solver’s will, the conduits through which divine messages were received. Each morning, they entered prayer, seeking guidance, offering devotion, and in return, they received the visions, the blessings, the knowledge that dictated the Church’s every move.

It was sacred . It was restricted .

Only those deemed truly trustworthy were permitted to be present during such a ritual.

And yet, here he was, a complete newcomer, barely a day into his stay, being invited—no, expected —to assist in something so crucial .

N swallowed hard, hands tightening slightly around his prayer book. His mind raced through the possibilities. Had he already proven himself in some way without realizing it? Or was this a test? A trial to see if he truly belonged here?

Either way, he couldn’t really refuse.

Cyn simply smiled at him, as if entirely unsurprised by his reaction. “Do not worry, dear Pastor. You will not be alone in this.” She turned smoothly, motioning for him to follow. “Now, come. We mustn’t keep the Speakers waiting.”

N exhaled sharply, forcing his nerves to settle.

Oh goodness, this was happening.

With one last glance at Doll—who had already returned to her book as if nothing important had just transpired—he pushed himself to his feet and followed the Cardinal out the door, stepping forward into the Church of Null’s estate. 

The sun was peeking just above the horizon as the two began to walk. There were a few clergy members out and about, carrying out their own tasks. It was definitely a lot busier compared to N’s own Church back home, but that just came with the title of being the religion's main Church. 

“The prayers don’t last too long,” Cyn said after a minute. “Only around half an hour, but they are very important, so they must be done. Afterwards, I will show you what you shall be doing for the day.”

“Understood, Cardinal,” replied N.

The two continued on their way till they came across the cathedral. It was a large thing sprawling across the land like a monolith to the Solver. Entering, N could hear their footsteps echo, the sound bouncing around repeatedly before it finally died out. Standing at the sanctuary was Nori and Yeva, both talking to one another… well, it was more like a one-sided conversation. Nori was doing most of the talking, and it seemed Yeva was content with just listening. 

Before that, on the chancel, was Uzi, leaning against the wall while on her phone and listening to music. And on the steps was… was that Doll? How did she get here? N could have sworn they left before she did. Cyn noticed his confused expression, and just gave him a smile. 

As they drew closer, N was able to get a good look at the Apse behind the altar. It depicted many arms and claws, many yellow eyes descending down from the heavens to reach people below, with the Solver’s symbols in the middle. Once the other members of the Inner Circle noticed Cyn and N approach, they began to move, gathering candles and such to prepare for the prayers.

The Speakers of the inner circle moved around in quiet tandem. There was no speaking, no confusion—only silent gestures and glances exchanged. They had done this many times before.

N watched as Nori carefully arranged a row of white candles along the outer edge of the chancel. She lit each one slowly, the match touching down like a whisper, each small flame blooming with a soft flicker.

Yeva stood near the altar, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the faint scarring on her forearms—old, faded burns, perhaps—but her focus never wavered. She held a small brass thurible, intricately patterned and worn with age, and began gently swinging it back and forth, filling the air with coils of incense that rose and curled. The entire cathedral smelled of crushed herbs, sweet resin, with hints of something slightly metallic beneath it all. It hit the back of N’s throat in a way that was both familiar and strange, awakening some distant memory of early sermons and candlelit vigils from his own church, long before this place had become his present.

Uzi, to her credit, was now entirely in sync with the moment. She’d ditched the earbuds and phone, her face mostly blank, but her hands deftly moved across a tray of picked flowers, setting them out in a bowl that sat on a velvet-lined table near the front pews. Every now and then her eyes would flick upward, meeting N’s gaze and then quickly averting away. She was just as much a mystery as Doll was.

And speaking of Doll, she had taken up a position at the foot of the altar, kneeling with her hands held in front of her in prayer and a chest in her lap, posture rigid, like a statue that had been placed there centuries ago and simply forgotten. Her single visible eye was closed, but N could tell she was listening—attuned, somehow, not just to the sound of the room, but to something else . She looked very mystical with the way the drifting smoke from Yeva’s censer curved around her and moved on without touching her.

Cyn, standing beside him at the entry to the nave, gave a slight nod of approval as she watched them. “Everything is proceeding as it should,” she said under her breath, the smile she wore not one of pride but of certainty. “These women—each one—were chosen not for their piety alone, but for their attunement. Their ability to feel what most of us spend our whole lives trying to glimpse.”

N swallowed. Seeing the prep work for such a ceremony was a sight to behold—not just in the air or the visuals, but in the coordination. The unforced unity. It wasn’t just a prayer service. It was a performance between humans and something higher. A communication ritual wrapped in movement and silence and flame.

“What should I be doing?” he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the equilibrium with the clumsy noise of his own inexperience.

Cyn looked up at him. “You will assist me at the altar. Follow my lead, speak when spoken to, and observe everything. If you listen closely—not just with your ears, but with your understanding—you’ll find this moment will tell you more about the Solver than any doctrine ever could.”

With that, she stepped forward into the sanctuary, her soutane trailing faintly behind her like black smoke, and N followed, steadying his breath as he passed between the rows of pews, stepping into the ceremony's quiet orbit. 

One by one, without a word exchanged, the others joined Doll at the altar’s base, their movements synchronized like ripples in still water. Nori knelt beside Doll. Yeva followed without hesitation, settling beside them. Uzi took her place last, her earlier detachment replaced with an unsettling calm. Each woman mirrored Doll’s position—backs straight, eyes closed, hands gently resting on their knees—and in that silence, their posture took on a kind of sacred geometry. It was not submission, but stillness by design. Even N, who had never seen this rite performed before, could tell that everything about their positioning held significance.

Cyn stepped forward, the heels of her shoes tapping softly against the stone floor as she approached the low pedestal beside the altar. N followed at her side, feeling both out of place and impossibly drawn in, like a single pawn allowed too close to the king. He didn’t know the steps, didn’t know the lines, but he could feel the ceremony tugging at something deep within him—some kind of cord inside.

Before them sat an old chest, weathered wood reinforced by iron brackets, its surface smoothed and faded by generations of handling. Doll reached forward, hands steady, and slowly undid the latch. The click echoed in the cathedral’s high arches, and she opened the lid.

N flinched before he could stop himself. Nestled inside the chest, resting on dark velvet, was a human skull. Its surface was yellowed with age, smooth and porous, with tiny fractures and hairline cracks marking its timeworn journey. There was no adornment, no gilding, nothing to dress up its blunt finality. It was death, presented without apology.

His mind immediately surged with questions—Whose was it? Was it symbolic or literal? Was it once a believer, or someone else?—but he said nothing. To interrupt this moment would feel like blasphemy. Instead, he watched as Cyn, unbothered, reached into the chest and gently cradled the skull in her hands. She carried it like a baby, and laid it on a silken pillow that had been set at the heart of the altar. Uzi’s bowl of white lilies followed, placed carefully at its base. The smell of the flowers, combined with Cyn’s own perfume that smelled of lilies, was so strong it overwhelmed his senses. It felt like he was inhaling Cyn herself, feeling her throughout him.

As Cyn returned to his side, N noticed something peculiar—her stride, it had a slight irregularity. He never noticed it before, but with his focus solely on her, it became more apparent. A limp, subtle but there. Old injury? A physical limitation? He had no time to ponder. She joined him at the front, turned to face the altar, and slowly clasped her hands in prayer. He followed without hesitation, mimicking her exactly, fingers laced together, thumbs resting atop one another.

And then, she spoke.

“We pray for the gift of life,” she began, her voice reverberating through the chamber, “celebrate the gift of death, and take solace within the machinations of the Solver. We are grateful for the universe and the very fabric it is woven on, and yearn for the inevitable, exponential end. We purge our thoughts, clear our minds, and let you in.”

The words—so familiar from the mantras he had heard spoken by congregations back home—took on a slightly different wording here. It was interesting, seeing how by changing some words around, the prayers for the Speakers had been formed.

A pause followed. No one moved. Even the air seemed to wait.

Then Cyn continued, but her voice was now laced with something both intimate and inhuman:

“Oh great beast of a thousand eyes and endless hunger, grant thou disciples the gift of thy guidance in this mortal plane. Consume our offerings, and grant us vision.”

Stillness returned. A hush so complete it felt unnatural.

N waited. One second. Two. Five.

Nothing .

He began to think perhaps something had gone wrong. Maybe the prayers had not been accepted. Maybe his presence had disrupted the ritual. Maybe—

And then, movement .

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bowl of flowers begin to quiver. Slowly, the petals curled inward, turning to gray as if kissed by invisible flame. The skull followed, flaking from the crown downward, its surface darkening into cinders. No fire, no heat—only decay , happening impossibly fast. The smoke from Yeva’s thurible crept toward the altar, tendrils of incense winding around the offering like curious serpents. But it wasn’t dispersing—it hovered, danced, curled tighter and tighter around the ash, as if feeding, consuming .

N’s breath hitched.

And then it happened.

Every woman knelt had opened her eyes in unison. Bright golden light spilled from their pupils like cracks in reality, brighter even than his own blessed gaze or Cyn’s. They weren’t eyes anymore. They were openings . Gateways. And something was very clearly looking back through them.

N’s voice left him in a breathless whisper. 

“The Solver…”

His heart was galloping now. His hands trembled where they rested on his lap, his breath shallow, chest tight.

And then—

Darkness.

Not unconsciousness. Not sleep.

Oblivion .

One moment he was in the cathedral, the next he was adrift in a black void so complete it felt like it had existed long before the concept of light was invented. It wasn’t emptiness. It was fullness without form. A presence without shape.

And then the eyes appeared.

Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. Yellow. Unblinking. Watching. Knowing.

A flash—just a moment—and N screamed. But only in his mind. His voice never reached his lips.

He gasped and snapped back to consciousness, lungs struggling to remember what air was, skin clammy with sweat, heart pounding in his chest.

He was still kneeling. Still clasped in prayer. But everything inside him felt shaken loose.

The other members of the circle remained motionless, entranced, heads bowed, as though nothing extraordinary had occurred. But Cyn—Cyn was watching him. Smiling .

And not a kind smile.

It was too wide.

“You caught a glimpse of it, didn’t you?” Cyn’s voice was velvet-soft, threaded with hush. She leaned in until her lips hovered just beside his ear, her breath warm against his skin. “The Solver.”

N didn’t answer. His mouth had gone dry, his thoughts still scattered in the wake of that vision—if it could even be called that. It hadn’t felt like a dream or a hallucination. It had felt real . As if some colossal awareness had taken notice of him, if only for a flicker of a moment, and in doing so, had unstitched something primal in the back of his mind.

And still, Cyn smiled. That same smile she always wore—but now laced with something more: an undertone of delight, like a scientist watching a successful experiment unfold in real time.

“Congratulations,” she said. “You are one of the lucky few who have. Of course, you cannot converse with the Solver like the Speakers can, but even seeing it— truly seeing it, even for the smallest second—is rare. A great feat, dear Pastor. One you should be proud of.”

N's brow creased as his shoulders sagged slightly. “But… I haven’t done anything, Cardinal,” he said. “I just… I’ve just been here, doing nothing, and it happened. You said that I would be assisting in the prayers, but I’ve done nothing to help.”

Cyn turned toward him, her hand reaching out without hesitation, fingers wrapping gently around his own. Her touch was firm but not aggressive, a tight grip but gentle at the same time. He stiffened at the contact, surprised, but she gave his hand a small, reassuring squeeze. 

“But you are , my dear,” she countered easily. “Your presence is exactly what was needed. You’ve already helped more than you realize, Pastor N. Sometimes the right soul in the right place is all it takes to open doors long thought closed.”

He didn’t fully understand, and she didn’t offer more. But it was hard to think clearly when her hand was wrapped around his like that, while his own cheeks flushed a faint, unwelcome pink.

Mercifully, the ritual reached its end, marked by the dimming of that strange, golden glow in everyone’s eyes. One by one, they returned to normal, the yellow light fading like the embers of a fire retreating into ash. The room regained its silence—until, quite suddenly, it didn’t .

Because every member of the inner circle turned to look at him.

Uzi’s indifference cracked for the first time. She stared at the ground, face tinged pink as though she had been caught in the middle of something too intimate. Doll was just staring, eyes never leaving his. Beside her, Yeva kept her gaze fixed on him, unreadable save for the slight tightness at the corners of her mouth. Nori, ever the brazen one, smirked in a way that made N feel like he’d just wandered into a room he wasn’t supposed to be in.

“This… this can’t be real,” Uzi muttered, the words tumbling out like she hadn’t meant to say them aloud.

“Oh, but it is,” Cyn replied, voice bright and chipper.

“Interesting,” Nori purred, and when N turned to her, he found her openly assessing him—head tilted, eyes gleaming. “Well, can’t say I’m against it. It’s been a while. And he’s just the kind of spice I didn’t know I needed.”

N frowned, his discomfort beginning to sour the remnants of awe still clinging to him. It wasn’t just what they were saying—it was how they were saying it. He was still present, still standing right in front of them, and yet their conversation continued as if he were a subject on display.

“What… is this about?” he asked, turning back toward Cyn, trying to mask the unease in his voice with a veil of politeness.

“The Solver’s guidance,” she answered, clasping her hands behind her back. “They have all been made aware of what they will eventually need to do.”

N hesitated. “And what would that be?” he asked, then caught himself. “If I’m allowed to know, of course.”

Cyn let out a giggle that didn’t reassure N in the slightest. She stepped closer, brushing past him in a way only she could manage—never invading space, only folding herself into it, gently but undeniably. As she passed, her fingers skimmed his arm, featherlight but still could be felt, even through his robes.

“All will be revealed in due time, my dear Pastor,” she said. “For now, let’s shift our focus. The prayers are done. It’s time I take you to your first task of the day.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the others, voice shifting into something more official. “Would you four be alright handling the cleanup?”

Nori scoffed, folding her arms under her chest with an exaggerated shrug. “It’s just a bit of ash and some wax. This is nothing.”

“Good,” Cyn replied with a nod of approval. “Once you’ve tidied up, make sure one of you informs the others of the Solver’s wishes. It’s important that all are brought into alignment.”

Yeva nodded, taking the task upon herself.

Without waiting for further comment, Cyn turned back to N and hooked two fingers into the fabric of his sleeve, tugging him gently toward the cathedral doors with a spring in her step and that ever-present smile on her lips.

“Come now, Pastor N,” she said. “With the prayers behind us, it’s time for you to officially start. And trust me,” she added with a glance over her shoulder, “your time there is going to get very interesting from here on out.”